Vader
by R. Campbell
Summary: What lies beyond the mask...Chapter Two: Padme.
1. Water on Tatooine

**Vader**  
by R. Campbell

_Chapter One  
Water on Tatooine_

People change.

He had changed, though the revelation when he first thought it surprised him. He had changed. His body, for one thing. That was not the same, would never be the same again. He was white and pale, most of his body was gone, burned, sometimes he couldn't remember what he looked like before. Sometimes he couldn't remember what he looked like without the mask. Not that he wanted to. But it wasn't just this that had changed. The outside mirrored the in, he thought grimly, when he thought about it, although he didn't think of it much.

And just as he couldn't remember what he looked like before, he couldn't remember what he was before. The name "Anakin Skywalker" tasted foreign on his tongue. And Padme...he couldn't remember her either. And he didn't want to. Names like "Anakin," like "Ani," like "Padme" - they were names that belonged to the dream world, names that belonged to his nightmares.

People change. He didn't notice it, and even after it was over, he didn't think of it, didn't want to.

* * *

Darth Vader was imposing. Anakin Skywalker had never been.

As a boy, his mother and friends had called him, "Ani," and he had been a little slip of a boy. Precocious, yes, intellegent, yes. His mind turned cartwheels over his friends, over his mother even. Over Watto, over Sebulba. Ani was the kind of child who was constantly plotting, in a sweet, good natured way. How he was going to get off the dust pit that was Tatooine, how he'd free himself and his mother from the life of servitude they had been chained to, how he _would_ beat Sebulba in the next pod race. When he thought these thoughts, he would bite his lip and his eyes would grow darker, lids halfway closed.

Ani, plotting, mishevious boy that he was, spent most of his time dreaming. He liked to go to the Avernus, the once lake, and watch the two moons of Tatooine rise. Avernus had been dry for near a millenium, and it had been covered by dust, but the locals still called it the lake, wistfully, harking to a better time, a time when there was water, a time without irrigation farms, a time long before the Huts, a time before slavery. This, of course, was a daydream of those who talked of it, Ani knew. The Huts had always been in charge, and there had always been slavery. He thought, even, sometimes, that there had never been water, but he had found a fossil of a fish one day. He kept the dried rock, with it's little skeleton fish in his pocket, and whenever he felt like things were impossible, he rubbed the fossil. _There was water once on Tatooine._

Ani had dusty blonde hair, dusty because sand liked to settle in his hair, and it was only after he had washed that his hair color could be called blonde. It was a pretty golden color when it was washed, and it was soft and fine, before the dust settled in. His blue-green eyes were thoughtful and curious. At times, usually when he was talking to his mother, they softened into kindess, a kindness that was rarely on his face. This is not to say that Ani was not kind. He was nothing if not kind. He would give a friend his last drop of water if they were both dying of thirst. Small things also, small childish things. When he found Amee, the day that her father was killed by Tusken Raiders, crying in the alleyway behind her home, he gave her his marbles. When Kitstir broke his finger, Ani helped him finish his chores.

Ani was too small to be noticeable. He never did anything worthy, never changed the world. When he started podracing people began to notice him. But it wasn't a steady, complete notice they gave him. At first, everyone had been astounded that a human, and such a little one at that, could hold his place in such a dangerous sport, a sport that no other human could do. It was novel really, in Mos Espa and the area around, novel anywhere, actually. But the novelty wore off after a while; Anakin Skywalker never won. Novelty was Sebulba, at least, Winning was Sebulba, and whether that was truly novel or not did not matter to the gambling Hutts, or the Toydarians, not to the Greedos, not to anyone who bet on the races. And when the novelty wore off, so did their attention on Ani.

Mos Espa was not an ideal place for growing up. The conditions of life were hard, even for those who were not slaves. The sun was hot and brutal, the dust left a dry taste in the mouth; water was hard to find, even on irrigation farms. But Mos Espa was more than this, more than just a place where the climate murdered. Mos Espa was a place of cruelty. The Hutts had destroyed any of the morality that was left in Mos Espa, indeed, in all of Tatooine.

Ani had, of course, heard the folklore surrounding Tatooine's less-than-reputable past. Tatooine had once been a center for trade, not, of course, for the Republic; Tatooine was too far removed from Coruscant and the central planets to even been a _main_ center for trade; but the planets in the outlying systems relied on the Mos Espa, Mos Eisley and Mos Efuerza for their every need. Mos Espa and Mos Eisley still stood, although traders would pass by the planet of Tatooine, having no interest in a place where Hutts ruled. Mos Efuerza, perhaps, would still draw traders, but its population had been destroyed by a sandstorm some centuries ago, and no one bothered to return to and rebuild the once thriving city.

But those facts were not interesting to children like Ani. What did capture his imagination were stories about the Jedi. There were Jedi, it was said, in Mos Efuerza, hundreds of years ago, millenia even, when there was water on Tatooine. They left, after a while, to go to the main cities, to Coruscant, where the Jedi council had been set up not too long ago, to be, as they say, "the guardians of the galaxy." People on Tatooine had long forgotten this, though, except for stories told to slave children while they were falling asleep.

To believe in the Jedi was to believe. To believe in the Jedi, one had to have faith. There weren't any Jedi around Mos Espa, Mos Eisley, anywhere. To believe was to accept, without thinking, that these people did, indeed, exist.

Ani believed. He believed in the only way he knew how. He went to Avernus the once-lake and squeezed his eyes shut, and whispered, "I believe, I believe." Sometimes, he prayed. Ani didn't believe in a higher power, but he believed in the Jedi. He believed that one day the Jedi would come and free him, his mother, his friends, all the slaves. As for the Force...well, it might be real, but not to a child whose life was lived out on a dusty, hot planet, not to a child whose life had been spent in the chains of slavery.

Although later, he would come to believe in the Force, although later he was see what it could do, what _he_ could do, this is Ani, this is before Qui-Gon whisked him off that planet he so hated, this is before Obi-Wan taught him everything he knew, this is before Palpatine, before Lord Sidious, _this_ is before Darth Vader. But that was later. Now he was just a boy, just a little boy, who liked to sit on the hard dirt next to where Avernus used to be, who liked to dream about being a fighter pilot, who prayed that the Jedi would come.

Sometimes he prayed for his father too. Sometimes he thought he could see him in the distance, but that was just stupid; he had no idea what his father looked like.

One day he had a conversation with his mother.

"Mom," he said. Shmi looked over at him. He was standing in the doorway of her room, where she was lying on the bed; blinds shut, although this didn't do much: she had a headache.

"Ani," she said, "I have a headache."

"I know. I just..." his voice trailed off. _He just what?_ Shmi Skywalker looked at him appraisingly. He was a smart boy, much smarter, she had to admit, than her. Whatever he wanted, she might not be able to answer it; whatever he wanted, preocious boy that he was, she might not be able to deliver. And _he just what?_ Ani was usually very - extremely - forward with his questions, he didn't stop after the word "just;" he plowed onward. But this, this question, whatever it was seemed to make him halt, and she realized, suddenly, how small he was. He certainly didn't seem small, but he was. "What, Ani?" she said, finally.

"How come...how come I don't have a father?"

Shmi blinked. "Is that all?" she said. "I told you your father died when our house caved in."

"How old was I?" He came to sit down next to his mother.

"Three. Then we were sold to Gardulla the Hutt."

"I remember. But you've never told me..." He seemed to be considering a question before he asked it, and after considering a moment or two, he decided to ask a different question. "Where were we before getting sold?"

"In Mos Efuerza."

"I thought Mos Efuerza was destroyed."

"Well, yes, but there are still some irrigation farms out there. We were slaves to a man named Plus Slave. but after your father died he considered us bad luck, so he sold use to Gardulla." This, of course, was not the true story, although Anakin later would find out the truth. It was Ani who was the bad luck. Bad luck was babies born out of wedlock, especially when there was no man around, no man to father even a bastard child. Tatooine, especially the men living close to where Mos Efureza, was very suspicious, and after a series of incidents, one in which a sandstorm knocked out irrigation pumps, another in which a fire started in the kitchen and burned down their master's house, and also the caving in of the house - for this part of the story was true.

"Gardulla had bad luck on us, too" said Anakin, thinking of how she had to sell them when she lost on the podraces.

"Yes," said Shmi. "Is that it? Did you want something else? I have an awful headache."

"Well, what was he like, my father?"

"He was a lot like you," Shmi said, "Kind and smart. He was wonderful to be with."

"What did he look like? Did he look like me? I don't look like you."

Shmi had prepared answers for the time when these questions arose. She had planned for this moment ever since Anakin was two, when he first asked who his father was. Kaylee had a father, Anakin noted at one point. (Kaylee was the girl whom Anakin played with when they were younger. Kaylee had dark brown hair and green eyes; she looked like her father. Ani had seen her so often running to her father and being picked up and swung around.) Kaylee once asked to him, "Where is your father?" She said it curiously, didn't think it would hurt him; but it did. When he came to her, at two years of age, Shmi gave him a sweet and dismissed him; he didn't bring it up for a long time, but during that time Shmi had planned an elaborate answer - this is who he was, this is how he looked; this was how I met him; this was how...

"He had your smile, your hair, your eyes." This was a lie. Ani had his grandfather's features - a grandfather, who, he luckily had never met. "You have my nose," she smiled.

"Mom. How come I don't remember him?"

"You were so little, Ani," she said, by way of vague explanation.

"But I don't remember him at all. You said he died before we came to Mos Espa, but I don't even remember him when we were at Mos Efuerza. I remember the house we lived in. I remember Kaylee. I remember _her_ father. But I don't remember mine."

Shmi put a hand on his back, "That's okay. It was a long time ago."

Ani stood and walked to the door. Shmi watched, thinking he was so grown up for his age. Yes, he was mischevious and couldn't do math to save his life, but he was an old soul. He stopped at the doorway. She thought maybe he would turn back towards her, one more question forming on his lips. But he didn't turn around; he just stopped. He stopped, and stood there, that small slip of a boy, and he said, "I think you're lying to me."

Then he walked away.

He had a fight with Kitster once. The only fight they ever fought. Kitster had, being mad at him for winning a game of marbles, and also being in a thoroughly bad mood otherwise, said to him, "Where's your father, Ani?"

"What?" Ani said, feeling anger building inside him. Kitster knew he wasn't supposed to mention this.

"Your father? Or are you just a bastard?"

Ani pummeled him in the stomach. Kitster, as soon as he got his breath back, jumped on Ani. Shmi had finally seen them and stopped them, but for the next week and a half, Anakin sported a black eye and Kitster a split lip. They made up soon afterwards, for that is what best friends do, and as Kitster was about to apologize for calling him a bastard, Ani lifted his hand and stopped him. He didn't want it ever to be said again that he was a bastard, not even in an apology. He and Kitster then went to go play a game of marbles, each trying to let the other win.

Kitster was a good friend, Ani often thought later, in the years after Tatooine, in the years before the Empire. Kitster was a sturdy little boy who stuck beside him through much of their young lives. He was rather silly, not as smart as Ani, but Ani forgave him for that failing; indeed that failing made him all the more appealing to Ani, who tried, very hard, to be like Kitster, to not to appear different.

But of course he was. At age six, Watto, after seeing him fly around the junkyard in an old junk racer that he had found amid Watto's piles, entered him in his first podrace. Shmi, no matter how she tried to put a stop to it, could not; Watto was their master. Everyone was impressed; he didn't finish of course, but no one really expected him to. They all still bet on Sebulba, but most of the time they cheered him on - "Anakin Skywalker - the little boy."

But Ani was not that; Ani wasn't a little boy, or even a podracer. He did it because Watto made him, and because he got some enjoyment out of the speed and people's attention on him; no Ani was a dreamer. And when he stopped dreaming about the jedi coming to Tatooine, he started dreaming about becoming a jedi himself and _he_ would come back, and _he_ would free the slaves.

Yes, there was water once on Tatooine, and that meant anything was possible.


	2. His Angel from Naboo

**Vader**  
by R. Campbell

_Chapter Two  
His Angel from Naboo_

The bins were always dirty. The dust and grime built up in the crack and crevices, along the sides and at the botttom. And when the bins got dirty, the parts got dirty. And when the parts got dirty, they didn't work properly. So it was important that Ani clean them at least once a month, and Watto usually made him clean them more often. Cleaning the bins was a tedious task. All the parts had to be taken out, then scrubbed and put to the side. Then the bins had to be scoured in every part, furiously washed and dried. It wasn't an easy thing. The dirt liked to stick in the corners and edges, and sometimes Ani even ran his fingernails down the side to loose up the dirt. He usually clambered over the bin and squatted in it when he was washing it, the bins being that much bigger than the small boy.

One day he noticed a large crack in a bin he was cleaning; a crack so large the bin would have have to be thrown away; he would tell Watto as soon as he was done. As it turned out, he never had a chance to tell Watto, but he never forgot about that crack.

"Peedenkel! Naba dee unko!" Ani started, lifted his head and looked toward the shop. Watto was calling him, in Huttese, no less. Must be outlanders there, Anakin thought; Watto only talked in the language of the Hutts when he didn't want outlanders to understand him. Ani scrambled out of the bin and ran into the shop. A man, a creature of which he had never seen the like (indeed, Jar Jar was an amphibious creature, and Ani had never heard the word "amphibious" in his life) an astro-droid, and the most beautiful girl he had ever seen were standing inside the shop.

The girl had a soft face, soft features, soft lips. Her eyes were a deep brown, questioning, inviting. She looked a little nonplussed by her suroundings, by the situation, and wary, too. She had obviously never been to Tatooine, and most likely she had never been to a junk dealer's shop. But she seemed to take it all in, observing everything and saying nothing. Ani stared.

"What took you so long?" Watto asked in Huttese, raising a hand to strike the small boy.

Anakin flinched away from it, and said that he was cleaning the bins like Watto had told him to do.

Watto lowered his hand, and said, dismissively, "Chut-Chut! Ganda doe wallya," which means in Huttese, "Never mind! Watch the store." Then Watto told him that he had some selling to do, then went out the back door with the man to the junk piles.

Ani sat down on the counter and started cleaning a part which had been sitting on it, his eyes, though, were turned back to the girl. She made him think of those stories that the space traders had told him, about angels, about beautiful things. She smiled at him. He took a breath, and said, "Are you an angel?"

"What?" she asked, bemused.

"An angel," he said vigorously. I've heard the deep space pilots talk about them. They live on the Moons of Iego I thimk. They are the most beautiful creatures in the universe. They are good and kind, and so pretty they make even the most hardened spice pirate cry."

The girl was flattered and didn't say anything at first. Finally, she said, "I've never heard of angels."

"You must be one," Ani said forcefully. "Maybe you just don't know it."

Her eyes met his. He knew, with complete certainty, that he was meant for her. She was the kind of girl who came around once in a lifetime - and there's would be, although he didn't know it yet, the kind of love that only comes around once in a lifetime. He wanted to tell her, wanted to say something to her, something that would convey that feeling, but he didn't know the words.

They talked for a while; at times the conversation was easy, at times it was forced, but he liked the sound of her voice, and he liked looking at her. Her name was Padme, and he thought it was a nice name. He thought, also, that she was a very nice person, the kind of person he would like to be with. She, however, didn't seem to feel the same way; she looked at him in a funny, amused way; she didn't understand him. He didn't really understand her either, but he knew that he loved her. When she told him that Tatooine was a strange world to her, he said, with a mixture of a fondness he should not yet have for her, and a regret that he should not yet feel, "You are a strange girl to me."

She, the man, the droid, and the funny creature left some time later, without the parts for their ship. Ani told himself that he would never see her again - he didn't want to hope for her, in case she was something that he could never have - but he _knew_ that he would. Watto, jerking Ani out of his thoughts, exclaimed "Outlanders! They think because we live so far from the center, we don't know nothing."

Ani replied, "They seemed nice to me." Especially the girl, _who you'll never see again_, Ani reminded himself forcefully. Although, as it turned out, he did see her again.

Watto told him to clean the racks, and after Ani had finished, Watto allowed him to go home.

Ani never knew if he believed in fate. By nature, Ani wasn't the kind of person who does believe in fate. By nature, he was a headstrong person, the kind of person who dictates his own life. But after a while, he started refusing to see his choices as his alone, as if fate wrote the script and he just played the part. Because it was certainly fate who killed Padme, certainly fate who created Vader.

Right now, though, as a boy of nine, he didn't think much of these things.

But when he saw her walking past a cantina, after he left the junk shop, he believed. There was something about this girl, something which was dragging them together, something that wouldn't let them be apart, and that was fate. Ani grinned as he saw her back, saw his chance to run up to her when Sebulba threatened the funny alien. After Ai had diffused the situation, and he and Padme had fallen into step, she smiled at him and he smiled back.

When he was younger he used to think about that smile, and it would make him happy, but after, after when he thought about that smile, it made him desperately sad, and the tears would spring to his eyes but wouldn't fall. There was nothing incredibly special about that smile; it wasn't as if it was the first time she had smiled at him, because she had, several times, in the shop; and it wasn't as if it preceeded anything spectacular, because she didn't speak to him afterwards. But it was the kind of smile that is remembered forever. It was the kind of smile, and it was the kind of moment, in which there are only two people.

Time passed.

Ten years pressed against him before he saw her again.

She was beautiful; he was tongue tied. "Grown more beautiful, I mean...," he said, and she laughed. She had, though, or maybe he just didn't remember correctly. The girl in his mind was still young, still slightly immature, although he hadn't thought so at the time. She held herself in the same assured, confident way, but there was something different about her. It was a nice difference, and he couldn't have loved her more.

She couldn't have loved him less.

Although, when she thought back on it, after he kissed her, it seemed to her that she had always loved him, loved him since that smile, loved him since he had given her the jappor snippet, loved him since before she knew him, and loved him even after. _He said you killed younglings..._

Once she said to him: It must be difficult having sworn your life to the Jedi... not being able to visit the places you like... or do the things you like..." He looked at her, and for the first time, he hated the Jedi order. He had felt resentment toward it, yes, toward Master Obi-Wan for not understanding him, for _everyone_ not understanding him, but he did not feel the way he felt at that moment. It was a flash, that hatred, come and gone before he could think about, and then he looked at Padme and simply said: "Or be with the people I love."

His voice was simple, the way he looked at her, simple, but there was also a boyish eagerness to him, as if he was trying to say, "I want to be with you," but couldn't make it more clear.

He couldn't tell if she noticed, but he thought she might have, because she looked embarrased, and said, almost as if she was avoiding his real meaning, "Are you allowed to love? I thought it was forbidden for a Jedi."

He felt that brief hate again, red behind his eyes, blood boiling. He loved her, and he didn't care if it was forbidden.

When he first kissed her, he wasn't sure exactly what was being said; the words just flew out of his ears, and he knew he was making correct responses, but they just didn't seem relevant. What was relevant was his hand on her shoulder, the way she was looking into his eyes. And then they kissed. It was one of those kisses where time just stops, like when they had smiled at each other all those years ago on Tatooine. It was the kind of kiss, and it was the kind of moment, in which there are only two people.

One day she told him she loved him. She told him that she wasn't afraid to die, that she had been dying a little each day since he came back into her life. He looked at her and didn't understand. And then she said, "I love you."

Many things happened on that day. The clones came into battle. He lost his arm. But he never recalled most of that. All he remembered was the way Padme looked when said it, the light in her eyes, and her voice trembling.

And when they told her that he killed her, that was all he could remember.


End file.
